


Ghost Lights in the Desert

by Inkly



Series: Sabkha [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Ghost Stories, The desert is Creepy, at least in certain parts, semi-mission fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-02-18 17:44:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13105317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkly/pseuds/Inkly
Summary: The transport dropped them off in Kelso, California. It's a dust bowl of a town: empty and full of white sage brush that Hanzo had rubbed between his fingers at McCree's urging when they first arrived. The pungent, green fragrance was refreshingly pleasant and, in a way, characterized the Mojave.





	1. Kelso, California

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fic in years so excuse me if it's a lil janky. Also, the song mentioned is Tom Paxton's "My Last Love Song".

The transport dropped them off in Kelso, California. It's a dust bowl of a town: empty and full of white sage brush that Hanzo had rubbed between his fingers at McCree's urging when they first arrived. The pungent, green fragrance was refreshingly pleasant and, in a way, characterized the Mojave.

Kelso was a ghost town, and according to McCree it had been since the 1970s or so. It was a town born from the Los Angeles and Salt Lake City railroad in the 1920s as a dinner stop. First the Depot was built, and the town sprung up around it as borax and iron mines opened. The mines had lasted a good decade and when they closed, everyone left to the next prospect. Now the town was full of windowless, sand eroded buildings with sand covered floors. Wild growth of desert shrubs and cacti encroached into the town.

You could _feel_ the twang of a country guitar in the air.

Three hundred yards in front of him and McCree, a coyote paused its bouncy gait to look back at them. Its ears twitched as a dust devil erupted in the distance. It lost interest with them because it eventually skittered off just as quickly as it appeared.

All they have is a small little transport that got dropped off with them, a locator that shows the coordinates of a reactivated Blackwatch bunker, and whatever they managed to fit into the tiny backseat of the transport. It's the signal from the bunker that has them out here, a good 516 miles from the bunker itself and 631 miles from where they're going to be picked up with a week of time to do it. Everyone in the recalled Overwatch had been left anxious when Athena picked up the beacon. Because it was a Blackwatch bunker, any files that had detailed what was stored there had been mercilessly scrubbed. No one had even remotely been in that area since well before McCree had responded.

Really, it wasn't the worst set up, Hanzo thought to himself as he picked sand from the plates of his ankles. There have been multiple jobs he has had to do with far less time and much higher stakes. He heard the distinct _tink tink_ of sand grains shifting between delicate but durable gears when he set his leg down.

McCree huffed a little laugh from where he was settling into the driver’s seat.

"Sand gets everywhere out here. It'll take some gettin' used to, but it shouldn't get to be too much trouble." He grunted as his legs got scrunched too tightly for a second before he found the latch to move the seat back. The seat gave a tinny sounding creak as McCree got comfortable.

Hanzo twitched when he heard Stormbow's case forcefully shifted. There was a reason he decided to stick it in his most reinforced case. No, the problem wasn't about Stormbow getting jostled a little- it was amount of flash-bangs McCree had managed to pack. He had once been flash-banged in the back seat of a limousine with a garrote around his neck. It was not an experience that bore repetition. Russia never left him with good impressions of the place.

With a small huff, McCree leaned back in his seat, put his prosthesis hand on the wheel, and flipped on the radio. Tom Paxton immediately began singing about running out of gas at a Taco Bell stand. It was going to be a long ride. The scruffy man next to him turned the music to a more acceptable volume and gave a thin, tired smile.

See, the thing that no one expects when they meet McCree is that he is actually a very… reserved fellow. He’s a walking contradiction in more ways than one. A dog that was raised by cats.

“First things first,” McCree started as they set off. “We’re gonna have to be real aware of our water. Don’t wanna get caught without any out here, especially since it’s gonna start getting hotter as we go.” He flashed a quick long lipped smile at Hanzo.

“I am aware of how the desert is, Agent McCree, do not worry.”

The tired smile fell completely away. “Alright, I didn’t wanna assume nothin’. And who knows, by the time we pass by Joshua Tree the wildflowers might be in full bloom.”

With that, they lapsed into a comfortable silence. The peace was only broken about an hour later when they passed a ply wood sign. In extremely childish writing ‘Ice Cream $1’ was sprawled onto it in bright red paint. Possessed by something McCree slowed down and whistled long and low.

“Well how about that.” He had his hat pushed up as he looked around.

“What are you-,” Hanzo cut his question short when he looked at where McCree was gesturing.

“Oh.”

“Yep.”

A long winding dirt road lead up towards a hilly area. The unpaved road rose and fell out of view a few times but Hanzo could see where it was going towards. It was a small ramshackle house that had seen better days even 100 years ago, well before the Omnic Crisis. All the shingling was long gone, and one of the front windows was busted out. The other was completely fogged up from age, sand abrasion, or both.

“We have time to check it out if you want.”

What.

“What.”

It was a question, statement, and objection all mixed into one. McCree had already turned down the road. Hanzo, most certainly, did _not_ grab his seat.

Heat immediately spread across his shoulders when they stepped out of the tiny vehicle. The creaky mess of a house loomed over them in comparison. Briefly, Hanzo entertained the thought of grabbing his bow, but McCree seemed perfectly relaxed with Peacekeeper securely at his hip.

“Are you happy now Gunslinger?” Sand shifted underneath his feet. He would have to pick all of it out once more later.

“ _Very_.” McCree pulled his communicator from his pants pocket. “Mind takin’ a photo with me? I’ll be showin’ it to Genji next chance I get.”

Genji was still a sore topic that the rest of Overwatch tended to avoid in all possible ways. It was almost a comfort how nonchalantly McCree mentioned him. It didn’t stop Hanzo from feeling unspoken accusations. Defensively, Hanzo shook his head.

“That is alright. I would not want to impede your enjoyment.”

He frowned at the building that looked like it would fall at any moment. His eyes narrowed and he stepped back closer to the vehicle. Something made from old paper or fabric kept rubbing against the remaining window every time a breeze came through the valley. Hanzo held out his hand expectantly.

“Aw,” the communicator was dropped into his palm, “You couldn’t impede if you wanted to.”

McCree propped a foot on the tiny porch, one hand on the thigh of his raised leg, and the other on his hip. It reminded Hanzo of a vintage photo he had seen on the internet once. Without a word he took the photo, and trampled back into the vehicle. Sand grains bounced onto the floormat.

Couldn’t impede if you wanted to.

Flustered without any real explanation, Hanzo tossed the communicator in the driver’s seat. Fingers gently brushed sand from his ankles.

Couldn’t impede if you wanted to.

By the time they turned around to head back on the main road Hanzo felt marginally better. He watched as the house shrank behind them in the side mirror. Whatever had been flapping in the window must have been knocked out of the way because he didn’t see it again.


	2. Joshua Tree, California

When they puttered their way into Joshua Tree proper, Hanzo finally saw why McCree had wished for the wildflowers to be in bloom. On either side of them red and yellow flowers created fields of color with the occasional patch of sand peeking through. Joshua trees stood like lone pillars, lumpy and bright green with white clumps at the tips of each stem. “Times like these are why I sometimes miss it out here.” McCree said. Hanzo didn’t mention how his hands tightened on the steering wheel when he looked out the window. Thankfully they didn’t swerve in the road even if they were the only ones out here.

The amiable silence that they had been sitting in suddenly felt wrong. “In Hamamura…” Hanzo faltered, suddenly unsure why he was about to disclose this to a man he barely knew. “In Hanamura. the sakura trees bloom in the spring. By April, the whole city used to be covered in pink- digital trees and natural trees alike. The city would host a sakura festival and Eitaro would make many of their sakura jellies at their booth. I remember going with Genji to the festival and getting several. It is the only thing from Hanamura I miss.”

 McCree looked at him as he spoke, the familiar itchy sensation of being watched too much to ignore. He kept looking out his own window.

“There’s just somethin’ about seein’ the Mojave just showin’ how full of life it is. I used to go out as far as I dared when I was younger, it didn’t matter how far, just that I went. There’s somethin’ about being out there- by yourself- and just looking around to see valley extendin’ all around you and mountains on either side that’s humblin’. You’re out there an' it seems like you’re the only one left alive- you’re impossibly big and impossibly small at the same time.” McCree sighed. “I used to love how frighten’ and lovely that felt. Then I started feelin’ it all the time. It gets better when you aren’t alone anymore.”

Hanzo swallowed bitterly, “Please cowboy, let us speak of other things.”

McCree lit a cigarillo, rolled the window down, and started talking about how Mei had been tinkering with her weapon before they had left.

It was still relatively early when they came to a stop in a tiny and remote camping lot. The sky was still a light blue, but it was still 100 degrees out. Hanzo slanted McCree with a look which made the man shrug, in an entirely token effort judging by the lopsided smile, and turned off the vehicle.

“Come’on now, there’s nothing like a little bit o’ a vacation.” McCree stretched his legs, already making his way to pop open the rear passenger door. Stormbow’s case began to slide out and by the time Hanzo turned in his seat to grab it, McCree had already steadied it. The cowboy gave him a tiny smile when he looked up and met Hanzo’s eyes from under the brim of his hat.

Reluctantly, Hanzo found himself enjoying the monotony of kicking rocks out of the way, laying down a tarp, and helping McCree set up the tent.  By the time they had gotten a fire started, he was more relaxed than he had ever been on a mission. He watched how McCree rested his weight on his right leg, sniffed, and stabbed at the steaks he had brought along. Everything from here on out would be nothing but field rations probably. It was almost a shame.

By nightfall neither of them could sleep, yet McCree seemed content to manage the fire. When Hanzo stood briskly, twitching as his legs crunched from the sand, the cowboy watched him. “If you wanna go fer a walk, it’s fine by me. I can clean up for ya.”

Hanzo dipped his head in thanks as he walked past him. He dug Stormbow out of its case, assembled it quickly, and shrugged on his quiver. 

“Hey Hanzo!” McCree called out before he got too far away. “Just lettin' you know, the desert’s strange at night.”

* * *

 

Hanzo saw it before he heard it. In fact, he didn't hear it all. It just popped up as if it had always been tucked next to a joshua tree.

It was silvery, seemingly almost metallic as it slunk across the desert. It was like a moon beam on still water, otherworldly and fuzzy at its edges. Every time he tried to focus on it, it was like looking at motion blur on a camera, it fizzled out of any solid form and made his skin crawl with trepidation. There was the sensation of knowing that what he was looking at knew more about him, as if it had ignored flesh and bone and instead saw his soul along with the dragons tied to it. No matter what, it was always unsettling to see other spirits because they always _chose_ to be seen. Whether this was for good or bad was yet to be seen. This spirit deigned to appear as a large stag with a crown of antlers upon it.

As it got closer he could see its eyes if he looked just slightly above its head, in the seat of its rack. The two eyes reminded him of pitch: richly black and shiny as the surface moved and writhed with each step. The stag blinked, and suddenly a third eye opened, a four, a fifth, and eventually it seemed like dozens of eyes were in existence, in a halo around the crown of its head. The forking antlers of the stag glowed blue, 60 points ringed with halos that vibrated with the desert.

The dragons roiled and churned under his skin as the 7 ft. tall stag came to a stop in front of him. All of its eyes focused on him, a physical weight that he was familiar with from his own spirits, and a voice spoke to him.

“ _Dragons, here in my home.”_ It whispered in his mind, layers and layers of voices in a cacophony. “ _You have wandered far, Host. Why are you here?”_

Old engrained words sprang from his mouth, “Honored spirit, I am not here to do harm.”

“ _Harm? The only harm you bring is to yourself.”_ The Stag dipped its head, the neck seeming to become plump from the changed position. “ _No, I know you will do no harm to my home. I ask why are you here?”_

“I am afraid I do not understand.”

“ _Unclever. I have seen you.”_ Images of a young Genji was physically pulled from the depths of his memory. His dragons growled, teeth gnashing at the stag as they spoke their own words somewhere in the tidal wave of noise in his mind. “ _Peace Dragons. I-We-They will not hurt.”_

A 12 year old Genji took one of his sakura jellies, and Hanzo let him have it with no real fire. His face matured until he was 16 and jittering with passion for others. His brother laughed until blood dripped down his chin, blade in his gut. The Elders watched from above. And then it was him, watching over and over through the years as he thought of the memory every time he felt joy.

“ _You harm, over and over again. Fratricide. Killer through and through.”_ And then he remembered Genji as he was now. Alive and not entirely whole, a man made of metal but a man nonetheless. He had polymer bands, power where blood should be, and kind eyes unlike their parents. He remembered the night in Hanamura the last time he went to pay respects for an alive man.

“ _You are forgiven, Host.”_ The Stag reared its head back, pupils dilating and undulating for a moment. “ _Yet you harm your own self.”_ The dragons simmered in his mind, unhappy with the spirit, but understanding. “ _I ask once more, why are you here?”_

“I… I do not know.”

The Stag shook its head as if to flick flies away. “ _You know, you know, you know. You will know Host. You already know. Time folds onto itself, you knew before you left.”_

And suddenly Hanzo could feel his fingers again even if he hadn't registered the loss of sensation in the first place. The Stag walked past him, the barrel sides of the beast heaving with breath it didn’t need. It looked plump as it passed by him without any more acknowledgment. He would have found the behavior from a regular deer endearing.

As quickly as it appeared, it vanished. “-zo! Hanzo! Where are ya!” He distantly heard McCree yell into the night. It felt like ear plugs were pulled from his ears as regular noise came rushing back to him. Clammy hands rubbed his face and he shook his head. Spirits were always disturbing to speak with.

When he looked up, he could see a small flashlight bobbing up and down. Red pricked against the bleakness of the desert, and he forced himself to walk towards McCree.

“I am here!” He called back, arm raised in a poor attempt to get McCree’s attention.

McCree practically ran towards him, and Hanzo watched as the man ran his fingers through his hair in relief, hat absent for the first time. “Lord, I was worried sick about you. You’ve been gone for an hour, Han, and I tried to get you on your communicator, but you didn’ answer. Are you alright? I told you the desert got strange at night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eitaro is actually a real shop, and is one of the oldest confectionery store in northern Akita Prefecture.
> 
> The Stag is based off of a southern mule deer, and they can look delightfully chubby and adorable. A normal mule deer is only like 3 ft. tall so the stag is super uncanny. The ghost stag is also supposed to be a local legend in the Kelso Valley area, but I just really liked the idea so I used it anyway.


	3. Superstition Mountains, Arizona

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edited to fix vanishing punctuation.
> 
>  
> 
> I might as well add some notes:   
> so this was written on a trip- apologies for any weird formatting since I only had my phone.
> 
>  
> 
> the ghost lights mentioned are actually the Marfa ghost lights- i just borrowed them bc i think they'd be pretty.
> 
> and the surprises ;) are actually central american based, but oh well! I love them.

The Superstition Mountains were dead east of Phoenix, and were large tawny clusters of pillars that burst from the relatively flat landscape. The corners of McCree's crinkled, skin deepened in familiar crow's feet.

"I haven't been here in a long time. Shoot, maybe even five, maybe six years ago? I was passin by and stopped to get some MREs while I came through.

"Reyes used to tell me that criminals were a pretty superstitious lot. Part of that reasoning was why he put this bunker in the Superstition Mountains. I used to think that quote was real slick until I found out it was from an old comic book." McCree shook his head. "No way to make sure no one's gonna stumble into a bunker like puttin' it in an already haunted place. Though I can't say he was wrong based off'a some of the things I've seen."

Hanzo privately thought the mountain looked like an overgrown butte, an ugly gouge in an otherwise flat land.

The mountain had used to be a national park, but had been largely been forgotten about. Reyes must have seen the opportunity and seized it somehow. Hanzo almost wanted to know how Reyes had managed to convince the government to let him build there.

The tiny base was nestled near the top, a challenge to reach if you weren't privy to the exact path to take. McCree insisted on waiting until the sun just started to kiss the horizon, the mountains in the distance jagged against sky.

Thirty minutes later found them on the side of the mountain, the night quiet around them. On the side of the mountain, Hanzo got to look into the valley, miles and miles of shadowed land surrounded them. Three bright lights appeared in the valley, each arching upwards several hundreds of feet above the ground before returning to the ground. They burst as they hit the valley floor, bright orange flecks floating away like embers when a burning log collapsed. A new set of lights appeared and repeated the movements.

Soft leather grabbed his shoulder and Hanzo jumped from the sudden touch. In the low light Jesse’s eyes looked pitch black, but there was a certain softness in his expression. “Ghost lights. If you were wondering what they were. They just sorta go back and forth, a real pretty sight.” Hanzo hummed and watched the lights for a few more seconds then kept on walking.

The entire area was nothing but rounded sandstone boulders and scrub grass. Occasionally, he saw a real treat- the broad pads of a cactus.

A side benefit of moving at night was the cool ambient air. It made the long climb seem relaxing until they stumbled upon the bunker they’d been sent out all this way to investigate.

Hanzo just about walked past it until Jesse called for him to stop. In his defense, it was hard to notice the appallingly tiny entrance from where it was disguised. It was a damn good bunker that Reyes had commissioned. There would be no denying that.

It barely took Jesse a good ten minutes to wedge the entrance open, the sliding mechanism stiff from disuse and Hanzo found himself, not for the first time, skeptical that there was a real need to check this place. It would never hurt to be thorough, he thought, it would be worth it to have resolution. Thick cobwebs plastered against his face and he tried not to think about spiders that could kill a man crawling on him.

By the time Jesse worked himself in, Hanzo had already cataloged what little he could see from the dim night light that crept through the entrance.

There were small bits of rumble scattered in front of them and broad metal shelves. Jesse cursed as he lit up a small lighting device. The main room had been wrecked, gray papers scattered on the floor with everything else. Holes dotted the metal walls, clearly remnants of the shelves. Food tins were stacked in one corner in the shape of a pyramid.

“Well then. Looks mighty like someone really has been snooping through here then.”  
Silence was thick inside. There was nothing to imply that whoever had been through the area had bothered to stay. Dust kicked up whenever they took a step to explore the area.

“Might as well take a lookie-lou and get outta here. There’s only three rooms in here- including this one.” Jesse shot the food tins a dubious look as he toed the pyramid, “The food is definitely new, I will say that.”

The eastern room was in similar disrepair and abandonment, but the southern room was promising. All of the communication systems were in the southern room Jesse explained. Any luck they would have with trying to see what the goals of the person were probably in there.

And the southern room did deliver. It delivered nothing but fried equipment except for one lonely terminal. An orange light blinked as continued to send a signal to Winston no doubt. But the main attraction was the giant gaping wall on the western wall of the room. Behind metal walls was a solid of cement, and a large black gape seemed to crave gulping them down.

A tinny sound echoed from the depths. Silently both men glanced at each other. They leaned against opposing sides of the opening.

"I have a question..." Hanzo whispered in the echoing silence. "How big did you say this base was?"

The cowboy cocked his pistol as he leaned against the other side of the hole in the wall and dryly said, "Couple of rooms. I didn't even know it went this deep."  
Dust motes crept out of the opening and Hanzo could see individual specks if he focused. He locked eyes with McCree and they exchanged the barest nod. McCree touched a finger to the tip of his brim.

Together they swung into the dark hallway. McCree flickered his flashlight down the long stretch and cursed. His hands shook and his breathing stuttered. Hanzo bit his lip, fingers tight around Stormbow as he reached for McCree's belt loop.

Glittering red eyes stared back at them, black fur shone in the light, and two spiky horns protruded from its head. It was a black goat, not a speck of dust on its fur, and impossibly alive.  
McCree's elbow tapped his side, and Hanzo tilted his head in response. "Shō, we have to leave. Tell 'Stin everything checked out. But we gotta leave. Right. Now."

A small chuff sounded by their feet. A wet noise, a plop, and a whine followed in close succession. Hanzo looked down in alarm and his heart skipped a beat. White fur, dog tail, wet looking eyes of red and black, and two horns like mountains. It was the spitting image of the goat like creature ahead of them.  
Its soft, moist nose sniffed his fingers where they were still looped in McCree's belt loops. The snout pushed into the palm of his hand and it closed its' eyes. Jesse seemed to realize that there was something else at his side and moved away from the white spirit, dragging Hanzo along with him.

  
“These things’r cadejos, Shō.” Jesse wrapped a glove covered hand around Hanzo’s fingers where they were stilled hooked into his belt loop. “Don’t try ‘n’ talk to ‘em like your dragons, it's not gonna end well. Don't give em your real name either. We should just get outta here and blow this place up like we should’ve a long time ago.” That explained Shō.

The white cadejo yipped, and Hanzo watched as the dog like tail wiggled in a strange approximation of a dog. It looked like a dog that forgot quite how to _be_ a dog, it moved unsure and hesitant like a rust encrusted fan. It slunk past them and sat next to the black cadejo which bared its teeth and barked at the white one. Something further down the enclosed spaced clanked and a small whispering noise echoed. As a unit, both spirits stood and looked down the hall.

“Tell me,” Hanzo said taking a step forward. He felt the soft well-worn leather of Jesse’s glove caress his flesh as he pulled his hand away. “What is the point of two?” Jesse fumbled as he tried to keep ahold of the other man.  
  
Hanzo bowed as the cadejos watched him. Their tails thumped the metal flooring and goat tongues lolled out of their mouths, and thick, pink tongues covered up human looking teeth.

"Do you really wanna do this?" Jesse asked, fidgeting in place. "One's gonna try and kill ya, and the other's more benevolent. 'Never can tell the difference between 'em though."

Three good  
cranks sounded in the dark hall. "We must go, it is  
why we are here."

They took a couple steps forward as the beasts started trotting down the hallway. Jesse grumbled and followed- Hanzo slung his bow onto his back, but he noted how Jesse never holstered Peacekeeper. Dust heavy air evaporated as they made their way down the hall, the floors shined brightly from Jesse's flashlight, and it was noticeably cleaner.

Hanzo flipped a switch along the wall, but only a heavy hum settled into the ceiling. He flipped it back off. The white cadejo threw its head back, its jaw bobbing open, lips pulled back to show its teeth, and gave a strange approximation of a laugh. _Chuf chuf chuf._ The black one stamped its hooves and turned back down the hallway.

And they followed.


	4. Superstition Mountains, Arizona II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo, having to watch Genji do some Dumb Shit: We are not related.

Superstition Mountains, Arizona

Hanzo remembered the first time Genji and he had snuck out of the estate. They had decided to venture down to the oldest part of Hanamura, the parts that had once been tiny villages that teetered on the edge of existence. Urban sprawl had brought Hanamura closer and closer to the villages as an all-consuming wave until they had been incorporated. Genji heard stories about yōkai from some of the older staff who worked in the kitchens, and had wanted to wander the less built up areas of the city. 

What they found was a girl in a white furisode, swaying to and fro as she came their way on the little street. She had a content smile on her face which had faint splashes of dried mud on her left cheek and her black hair was untied down her back and seemed slightly ruffled. She smiled at them as they passed and Hanzo could see that the inner layers of her furisode were dark blue as she bowed slightly at them. She was beautiful and Genji didn’t need any prompting to strike up a conversation with her, especially since she stopped for them already. 

“I must be lucky tonight,” She smiled, “I need some help and you two have appeared just in time.” 

Genji drew close to her with a wink and grin while slanting a warning look at his brother. “If it isn’t any trouble, I am sure my brother and I would be able to help you out-“ and here he trailed off, waiting for the girl to say her name. She let out a short huff of laughter at Genji. 

“Oyuki,” she said, “after the painting.” Hanzo felt strange that something was off, his arm itched as the dragons grew restless.

“Genji. Perhaps it would be best to return home.”

The girl twined her arm through Genji’s as she tucked herself into his side. Genji gave him a cross look, clearly more interested in tail tonight than exploring the old district anymore.

“I was trying to find my ex-boyfriend, but maybe I just found a new one.” She trailed her nails along Genji’s bicep. “He was so mean to me last night and he missed my coming of age party today, and I found out he stole some of my jewelry to give to some other girl. I really was hoping that I could find someone to protect me when I try to get them back. I am afraid to confront him.” She looked at Genji, “Please, it shouldn’t take that long since his apartment is on the next corner, and I’m sure I can make it worth it.”

And that was how Hanzo found himself trailing after Genji and a random girl to make sure that Genji didn’t just get caught in something too much for him. It was not the first time they had been intimidators, but it was the first time they had done so in such a domestic setting. 

Like the girl had said, they only walked to the next block and stopped a few feet away from of a dingy looking apartment. She forced Genji to lay something down for her to cross a small stream of water left over from a recent storm. She was afraid to get her furisode wet, and Genji found a long piece of cardboard. She smiled in thanks and pecked a small kiss on Genji’s cheek with a giggle. The girl knocked on the door and returned to Genji’s side. A balding man opened the door looking worse for wear. He looked incredibly irritated until he saw the girl’s face. His face turned white, and he shut the door without saying anything.

“Hey- that was your boyfriend?” Genji said incredulously, suddenly skeptical which Hanzo finally found himself happy with his brother’s level of common sense in front of someone he liked. 

The girl kept her grip on Genji’s arm and forcibly pulled him after her as she went into the apartment. Hanzo heard the click of locks when the man had closed the door, but the girl opened the door as if it had been left unlocked. The man was down the hall struggling to put on one of his shoes and screamed at them. Genji was struggling to escape himself, and Hanzo found himself trying to wrench the now silent girl’s grip loose. 

They passed a mirror in the hall and Hanzo saw, instead of a beautiful girl, and decaying body. A few strands of black hair were still attached to a skull, and her furisode was replaced by a kimono fit for the dead- the right breast on top of the left. Her teeth were in sharp points as she clacked open her mouth at the frightened man, who was now fumbling with a blade. 

“You buried me,” the girl said, and now Hanzo saw that she was a yūrei-zu- a ghost come back to fulfill untied ends from life. “You buried me in moss and soil in that forest. Stab me now, it will not be me who is hurt no more. I will break your neck as you tried with me. Twenty years I have had to wait.”

And the man tried to sliced at them right when Hanzo felt his dragons power coursing through his hand, and gripped the ghosts hand. She screamed, the dragons devouring her feeble power in their maws. Genji stumbled away from the ghost and Hanzo dragged him behind him. The ghost screamed at Hanzo, but her attention went back to the man attempting to stumble away. She set upon him, hands and teeth at work on his neck. Some seconds later a purple ball of fire appeared next to her, flickering and the ghost laughed at the soul, the fruit of her revenge.

She looked back at them, cackling and wisping away now that they had aided in her plan and she left them in an apartment with a body.

That was how the dragons were acting now. They were writhing and clawing inside his arm, the sensations of teeth and claws gnawing away at him made it feel alien. The twins wanted release, but if he shot an arrow for them, there would be no real reprieve without a target.

Both cadejos bayed at his arm. The black one clicked its teeth three times, its head bobbing up and down while never looking away from his tattoo, and then a small child's voice whispered in the quiet. "Hello." The white furred spirit nipped at its sibling's throat, blunt teeth bunched short fur and skin into a moraine. The black cadejo reared back, aggressively hitting the other with its hooves. 

The white cadejo let out a taunting, baying laugh and bit harder. Watery blood dripped from marks left from the blunt teeth as the black cadejo jostled itself to dislodge the white one. In self-defense, it bit hard on the ear closest to its mouth. Its sibling screamed but stopped its attack.

If Jesse had not given a warning not to speak to them directly, Hanzo would have called on them to cease. As it were, he let one finger find its way into one of Jeese's belt loops before falling away. 

Farther down the hall there was another sound like a young reed bending in the wind. It was barely discernible and if Hanzo was much younger he would have questioned if he had heard it at all. He saw Jesse readjust his grip on his revolver and watched the man's lips pull into a frown. At this distance they could see a pinprick of orange light at the end of the hall. Together they watched the dog like ears of the white cadejo raise flicker, a faint scent of decay wafting up with the movement, and it started trotting down the hall. Its swollen, barrel shaped sized sides bounced with strange child-like imitations of baa's as it ran.

Snow white fur turned grey and dingy from the shadows until it vanished into the new room looking golden in the light. The cadejo that had yet to leave Hanzo's side purred and stepped in front of them. "Go," it whispered, "go, go, go back," went the chant of its voice.

“Cowboy, I am thinking about which one is ‘trying to kill us’ as you put it, and I think I can say which is which now.” Jesse laughed dryly.

The next room was nothing but old lab equipment, steel tables and straps, and filing cabinets. Each cabinet had been carefully gutted, the files haphazardly thrown on the floor, or on the steel tables. They saw the white cadejo near one table where a large black shadow sat hunched over an open manila folder. In front of the figure was a lamp that was giving the warm glow to the room.

Reaper looked up from the documents he was perched over, the aluminum table in front of him gleaming like fire from the orange lamplight. “I figured you would turn up. Just not with the other Shimada and spirits in tow.”


End file.
